The Final Solution to the Mudblood Question
by racle
Summary: AU: Voldemort's true evil, ounce for ounce, dwarfs even Hitler's Holocaust in its sheer horror and ingenuity. How far can a wizard's inhumanity to wizards go? NOT YOUR TYPICAL "VOLDEMORT WINS" STORY! The most diabolical Dark Lord imaginable, and his difficult quest to spread his holocaust from Britain to consume the rest of the world. Super!Voldemort like he was always meant to be.
1. The Birth of a Nation

_AN: This is a bit different than your typical "Voldemort wins" story. The Voldemort of JK Rowling is nowhere near as bad as he could have been; his devastation was limited to Britain and the "deus ex machina" of the Elder Wand combined with his character flaws in just the right way to cause his defeat. This story explores the absolute worst possible (yet still realistic) Voldemort anyone could possibly imagine (in fact, I challenge you to come up with any worse). He's a little less arrogant and high-handed, a little wiser, and a lot more diabolical - his less unpleasant reign during Harry's seventh year alienates fewer people, thus avoiding turning popular opinion against him, and thereby winning him the final battle.  
__There is no concept of Deathly Hallows in this story. Voldemort does not foolishly waste his time trying to "get the Hallows" and master death; instead, he starts making new Horcruxes when he finds out Harry is destroying his original ones. This, along with his concealment of his true plans, not tipping his hand too early, allows Voldemort to "win."  
But it's not over yet. What was the true extent of Voldemort's plans? How far can a wizard's inhumanity to wizards go? Find out in this story..._

* * *

_Prologue:_

_May 3, 1998. The morning after the Battle of Hogwarts, a hard-fought but ultimately decisive victory for the "pureblood power" movement of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. __Among many blemishes marring Voldemort's triumph is a particularly embarrassing one: his own death, in the closing minutes of the battle, from yet another rebounding Killing Curse. Only Voldemort's foresight in making extra Horcruxes before the battle allows the surviving members of his Inner Circle to restore him to life. And nearly half of Voldemort's troops are martyred in the battle: his heroes, who are now by definition Britain's heroes, include such prominent names as Lestrange, Carrow, and Crabbe, among several posthumous recipients of the Order of Merlin. Nevertheless, victory is victory and the darkest empire in the history of wizardkind stands at its humble beginnings..._

"Your orders, my Lord?"

Now restored to corporeal form following the embarrassing incident at the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort's face appeared in the green fires of the Minister for Magic's office.

"Issue the following Ministry decree, effective immediately. All individuals known to have acted or advocated in opposition to the Dark Lord are to sign an oath, which shall be magically binding, affirming their loyalty to the current Ministry and to the Dark Lord, and renouncing any conflicting loyalties. Upon taking the oath, such individuals, if they have never previously participated in armed resistance against the Dark Lord or his agents, shall be free wizards, with all prior offenses cleared from their records."

As Voldemort spoke, a magical quill on the Minister's desk recorded his new decree, later to be passed to the Wizengamot.

"As for all individuals who have participated in armed resistance," Voldemort continued, "legal procedures shall be announced shortly for their lawful reentry into wizarding society. In the meantime, they are to be held in custody and treated with adequate food and shelter as prisoners of war.

"A second decree. Effective immediately, the area as shown on the map we made previously shall be a Giant reserve. Giants are hereby reclassified as beings and shall have the rights afforded by that classification.

"Another decree, also effective immediately. In the interests of immediate postwar stability, Apparation into and out of the British Isles is hereby prohibited until further notice. Emigration is also temporarily prohibited. Wards shall be placed to enforce these restrictions, which will be lifted as the situation allows and as fugitives are captured and brought to justice.

"Finally, effective beginning today at eleven o'clock, a bounty shall be paid to any wizard for the deliverance of fugitive Muggle-borns to the office of the Muggle-born Registration Commission, in the amount of 50 galleons per fugitive, preferably alive. The bounty may also be paid to unregistered Muggle-borns who turn themselves in, and the records of these Muggle-borns shall be cleared of all offenses.

"Oh, and one last thing? I shall prefer to be called 'the Dark Lord' when referred to in public. This is not a decree, but do encourage it in polite society; my name is still Tabooed to aid in capturing fugitives, so the less I am referred to by name the better."

"Yes, my Lord." Yaxley, now in the chair of the Minister for Magic following Pius Thicknesse's death, gathered the notes he had taken and went to the Wizengamot. The new decrees were duly approved, and thereafter printed in the Daily Prophet.

* * *

The entire British Isles had been sealed off by anti-Apparation wards, and all ports of entry were watched closely for any attempted escapes. Only Voldemort's inner circle knew the full extent of his plans. He foresaw the elimination of all Muggle-borns, and ultimately all Muggles from the world. The first step would be to destroy every one of the three thousand Muggle-borns on the British Isles.

Perhaps a thousand had starved or died of disease in the deliberately poor conditions of Azkaban before the Battle of Hogwarts. Another thousand and eight hundred or so remained in custody, wasting away; this meant perhaps two hundred more had either fled or hidden.

Kevin Entwhistle was one of the many faceless prisoners. Like many others, he had been caught when one of his fellow fugitives accidentally read aloud the word "Voldemort" from a Quibbler article. At first he was alone in his cell, but as the year went on, he had to share his cell – and the rotten slice of daily bread – with an increasing number of other prisoners. At one point nine of them had been crammed into that bathroom-sized cell; newer prisoners brought a trickle of new rumors and other news from the outside, as well as knowledge of what the current date was – for all who entered soon lost track of the days as hunger and cold occupied their minds.

The last one to be thrown into "Entwhistle's cell" (the prisoners named it after Kevin because he had been its first occupant) said he had been captured on April 12, 1998, after his ancestry records were discovered to be fake. A few weeks later, two Dementors and a squad of Death Eaters stopped by, opened the door, and ordered Kevin out of the cell. It was the first time all year that anyone had been removed from the cell alive.

Kevin was used to the Dementors by now, and his despair, unbroken for many months, was disrupted by the change in routine, as he and two fellow prisoners were grabbed by the wrists and pulled out of their confinement into the comparatively well-lit corridor. As the Death Eaters pushed him down corridors, a wand poking into his back at all times, he was alertly looking for any possible opportunity to escape. To his dismay, no opportunity arose; the Death Eaters remained just as alert as he was, and they had wands while he didn't. Suddenly they emerged onto a long pier jutting off the island into the sea, and then one of the Death Eaters bound his hands and feet while another levitated him bodily into the air, dumping him down the hatch of a boat waiting at the dock. He landed on the wooden bottom of the boat yet felt an invisible cushion soften the blow; there were a few other prisoners he could see around him, all bound with ropes. A few more tied prisoners were thrown in, and then the hatch was shut leaving them all in darkness.

Perhaps a few hours later the hatch reopened and now the prisoners were levitated back out, dumped one by one on the ground. There were carts waiting in the distance; Kevin supposed he was to be taken to his execution on one of them.

Now the prisoners were being separated by gender; Kevin felt himself levitated again and laid on the grass alongside an assortment of other men and boys. There seemed to be about thirty of them altogether.

A large pack of Dementors seemed to approach out of nowhere. The despair to which Kevin was now accustomed returned, now more intensely; the Death Eaters were out of sight. He felt chilled, then he realized what was coming.

A Dementor's Kiss.

So this was the fate of a Mudblood! A few of the prisoners were now squirming about on the ground, trying to roll themselves away from the terror of the Dementors; it was futile. One man was murmuring a prayer. Now all was dark as the Dementors loomed over their helpless prey. For a brief moment Kevin felt the cold scrabbly hand of a Dementor on his chest and then it was over. He existed no longer; he was part of that black reservoir inside the intimidating cloak with its two decaying hands.

The Dementors withdrew, and now four Death Eaters stepped up. The body that once belonged to Kevin Entwhistle was thrown into a cart, just one among many others equally undead.

"Goyle," one of the Death Eaters called out, "Take that cart to the east entrance of the Forbidden Forest; the werewolves should be there. Leave it for them."

"Okay," the one called Goyle pocketed his wand and jumped onto the horse-drawn cart, driving it off to make his delivery.

The other three Death Eaters jumped onto a second cart. This one, unlike the first, was loaded with female bodies. They drove the cart a few miles over the horizon to the gate of a large mansion: here they again unloaded their soulless cargo, untying the hands and feet of each victim as they did so. Two more hooded Death Eaters emerged from the front door of the house to help send the living bodies inside.

"So, this is our first harvest?" one of them asked.

"That's right," confirmed one of the Death Eaters that had driven the cart. "Have all the potions ready?"

"Thirty doses right here," the first one answered. "Restorative, fertility potion, and fattener all combined."

All thirty of the victims were now lined up on the magically-cushioned floor of the living room. The first Death Eater locked the door with a swish of his wand, then proceeded down the line of bodies, removing the clothes they wore. The truth was, Mudblood naked flesh was no less appealing than anyone else's, and Death Eater men had all the same appetites as any male would. They proceeded to carry out the Dark Lord's orders, and by nightfall the Dark Lord had thirty new unborn subjects.

Thus in one evil stroke of genius, Voldemort both destroyed his enemies and rewarded his supporters.

* * *

Half-bloods, on the other hand, were fully accepted into wizarding society, though always subject to some amount of social snobbery from their pureblood fellows. Grindelwald's great mistake had been to treat half-bloods as second-class wizards, an insulting action that had inflamed many half-bloods to side with the Muggle-borns. Voldemort, a half-blood himself, and armed with the wisdom of the past, kept the half-bloods on his side.

This, of course, did not apply to half-bloods (or even purebloods) who had fought against Voldemort during the recent war. At the end of the battle, almost a hundred and fifty prisoners had been captured alive; they were initially bound and held in cells at the Ministry of Magic. It would be a pity to have to kill them all; for Britain's wizarding population had suffered heavily from the war, and if these former enemies of Voldemort could be converted to supporters, they would make valuable contributions to rebuilding the society. What could the Dark Lord use these people for? They would soon find out.

"Think about it this way," Antonin Dolohov explained, "A half-blood, by definition, is anyone who has a Muggle parent or grandparent, but yet also has some wizard ancestry. So the children of a pureblood father and a mudblood mother are going to be half-blood, because they'll have Muggle grandparents from the mudblood parent.

"Now let's say this half-blood kid is sensible and marries a pureblood. Their children won't have Muggle grandparents anymore, because the half-blood's grandparents will be great-grandparents for the offspring of this pair, and this means that we have effectively washed away the stain of Muggle ancestry by successive marriage to purebloods. Technically, under the law, these children become pureblood because they are the third generation of non-Muggles.

"So, what we ought to do with all the half-bloods is encourage them to marry pureblood wizards, so that the children will be more pure. In the short run this introduces a temporary bit of pollution into the pureblood family line, but over time, as the Muggle ancestry fades further into the past, the line gradually regains its original purity."

Alecto Carrow nodded. "So that means we've got about seventy fertile witches among our prisoners, and another eight hundred or so baby machines from the Mudblood stocks, which gives us, let's just say nine hundred new wizards per year…"

"Exactly right," Dolohov picked up, "so in five years we'll have increased our population by over four thousand children. After that the Mudbloods may be all worn out, but that already makes up for the total population we've lost in this war, and we'll be a much purer society then without all the Muggle influence. All these kids will attend Hogwarts, and learn how to be true wizards and witches, and then…

"In seventeen years they'll become adults, ready to fight for wizardkind," Carrow said.

"Fight and reproduce," Dolohov corrected. "We'll produce an army of new Aurors and Death Eaters every year after that. We'll have nine hundred a year for four or five years initially and then eighty to a hundred more in reinforcements annually. Then after twelve years of that, the next generation – children of the first bumper crop – start graduating too, and from there we just start growing and growing. We'll roll through Europe and on to Africa without trouble, bring the Dark Lord's merciful rule to the whole world…"

As they were chatting, the two Death Eaters had come back up to the small back porch where they had started. Dolohov glanced at a time piece. "I suppose I should go," he said, "my son is waiting for me." The men said their goodbyes as any pair of friends might, and Dolohov vanished with a pop.

* * *

A large, silvery doe Patronus leaped through the open window of Madame Maxime's office, stopping on a dime right in front of the headmistress's desk. It had to be a message from the Order; the headmistress looked up from the staff evaluation she was filling out, locked and Silenced the door with a flick of her wand, and listened to the silver animal speak:

"Pass this message on to our Order contacts in France," said Professor Snape's voice, "inform them that Potter is dead, the Dark Lord controls Britain. All forms of communication and transportation are watched, only Patronus and Muggle communications will be safe. The Dark Lord plans to use all female Muggle-borns to raise an army of half-blood Death Eaters to conquer the world, our schedule calls for a new world war starting eighteen years from now, when the first crop of new Death Eaters become adults. You must expose this plan to the world… the Dark Lord will deny it, he will claim that he only wishes to rule Britain… this is a lie, he has ordered us to plan for world conquest… the peace now prevailing will be short unless the wizards of the world can be roused against this rogue Ministry – "

The silver creature dissipated, its message delivered. The headmistress sighed as she lifted her wand to send her own Patronus to the remaining Order members. It seemed she was not the only one having a bad day.

It took a few minutes for George Weasley to realize he was no longer unconscious, but rather awake and blindfolded. In attempting to remove the blindfold to see his surroundings, he discovered that his hands and feet were bound in ropes.

He had been at Hogwarts to help in the final battle. Some Death Eaters must have escaped, he thought, or there was no explanation for his situation. His thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of someone's footsteps and soon after the blindfold was yanked from his head.

Blinking a few times in the light, George soon looked up at a Death Eater he didn't know. The Death Eater conjured a cushion and sat down next to George on the ground. Only then did George notice that he, too, had a cushion under him - since when did Death Eaters treat their prisoners so well? he wondered.

"Mr. Weasley, right?" the Death Eater asked cordially. George said nothing.

"Well, my name is Matthew Mulciber. I will be serving you as interrogator tonight." The Death Eater smiled politely; George still said nothing.

"Anyway, wouldn't you like to know what happened?" Mulciber asked. Given no response, he continued, "I'll just assume it's a yes. You have the right to know, anyways, because we need you to make an informed decision.

"Voldemort won the battle."

George tried to convince himself the Death Eater was simply trying to demoralize him.

"I know you were friends with Harry Potter," Mulciber went on, "it must be hard for you. Too bad the prophecy said he had to die. He would've been a fine wizard...

"But here's what it boils down to. You can choose, as a convicted blood traitor and enemy combatant, to be executed; or, if you recognize your errors, you can redeem yourself and swear allegiance, on your magic, to the Britain Ministry of Magic and to the Dark Lord. Sign this paper," Mulciber brought out a scroll and quill, setting it in front of George, "and you are a free wizard of Britain, with all your past indiscretions erased from the record."

Mulciber waved his wand to release George's hands.

"You want me to pledge allegiance to the man who killed my brother!" George burst out angrily. "What did you think - "

"Think through this carefully, Mr. Weasley," Mulciber interupted. "I know your brothers died in the war. As they say, war is cruel. But now peace has returned. Enemies must reconcile, our society must be rebuilt. You are the last of your illustrious line, Mr. Weasley. Only you can redeem your ancient family and restore the Weasley name to its former honor."

"You killed them all!" the prisoner whispered in horror.

"I'm sorry," Mulciber said, seeming genuinely sorry as he spoke. "You know that my brother died in the war too? He was kidnapped by the Ministry during the first war. They tortured him to make him testify against two friends who we both knew were absolutely innocent. He refused to condemn them, and then to break him, they brought me in and made him watch as they Crucio'ed me. That was when I finally realized how evil the Ministry was. It was only then that I began to consider joining the rebellion under Lord Voldemort. Our job was made so much harder by well-intentioned but foolish people like your parents, who actually fought FOR the Ministry and all the corrupt atrocities it stood for.

"I bet you know people who have been screwed over by the Ministry too. All that is in the past now. We have a new Ministry, one that will serve the interests of the wizard community and not just a few crooked officials. One that will even forgive your transgressions, and give all a second chance in the interest of national reconciliation.

"As a fellow citizen, Mr. Weasley, I urge you to sign the oath."

It almost sounded a bit tempting. George, however, was not so easily beaten. "Your new Ministry tortures people too!" he retorted, "in fact I have every reason to hate your Ministry, just as you hated the previous one!"

"We tried," Mulciber said quietly. "You whole lot of Weasleys are just too stubborn for your own good... I know what it's like to lose a family member. The Dark Lord is willing to kneel and ask your forgiveness. And we offer our own forgiveness to you in return."

"Maybe I'm just not good enough of a person," George said bitterly. "Would you forgive the one who killed your parents, your twin brother, your entire family, all your friends! Look, you couldn't forgive the ones who took your brother. Why should I be any better?"

"They never asked to be forgiven," Mulciber replied. "They didn't even care. Certainly we could just kill you - as the previous government would have - but it is our hope that no more pure blood may be shed. I know this is painful for you, Mr. Weasley. I understand you may need more time. You can stay here for a while, and think it through."

Leaving the cell and shutting the barred metal door behind him, Mulciber released all of the ropes binding George, and walked away.

A short while later, working his way down the line of prison cells, Mulciber would make the exact same pitch, and receive a similarly angry response, from Percy Weasley – so that both surviving brothers, unaware of the other, were misled into believing themselves the last of the Weasleys.

* * *

"But can they really be trusted?" Rabastan asked doubtfully. "The Dark Lord wants them to do us services…"

"No need to worry," Nott answered, "The oath measures their intentions. If they ever try to do something against the Ministry, or against the Dark Lord, they become Squibs instantly. They are free to think, but not to act."

"But if they receive contradictory orders…"

"That shouldn't be an issue. But the oath was written so that the Dark Lord's orders prevail in the event that the Ministry is taken over, or if some rebel fraudulently impersonates the Ministry to issue false decrees. They will be quite trustworthy, Rabastan."

* * *

_Note to all the Hermione-only fans who clicked this story solely because of your favorite character - sorry I haven't brought her into the story just yet, but please rest assured she will be playing an important role later in the story, hang tight! Thanks for your patience! For now, I still need to set up the story... so it's Voldemort's show, for now._

_Author's note:_  
_In case it's not spelled out explicitly enough above, the overall outline of Voldemort's super-smart plan for world conquest is:_  
_1. After winning the British Isles, he rewards the Dementors by letting them eat the souls of Muggle-borns and others who refuse to submit to him._  
_2. Then he rewards the Werewolves, Acromantulas, Giants, Trolls etc. by letting them eat the male Muggle-borns._  
_3. Then he rewards his human Death Eaters by letting them impregnate all the female Muggle-borns._  
_4. Then he uses those soul-less female bodies to crank out children to be raised as loyal followers._  
_5. Most former Light Side opponents can hopefully be won over by leniency and moderation, tricking them to think that the "Dark Lord" isn't that dark after all. In fact, Voldemort will promise - and deliver - a more-or-less true meritocracy, for everyone except Muggle-borns that is. Though purebloods retain their social superiority in the most extravagant circles, half-bloods are pleasantly surprised to find little discrimination in practical middle-class matters. The purebloods don't dare to complain when Voldemort promotes competent half-bloods to staff his Ministries._

_The scheme continues in the next chapter as follows:_  
_6. Additional "fresh blood" for mating purposes will be obtained by forcing his former enemies (people like George Weasley) to mate with carefully chosen loyal supporters. This is Voldemort's effort to improve his supporters' gene pool, but without a "marriage" law. After three such "services" they are released from probation and can marry whomever they wish. This policy is justified by "the need to rebuild our population after the recent tragic war"._  
_7. Sensible reforms to improve the status of werewolves, giants, etc. will be implemented, of the type that Hermione Granger would have approved of; an ironic act of justice, but purely pragmatic from Voldemort's point of view (further rewards for his supporters)._  
_8. All children will be properly indoctrinated._  
_9. Voldemort will attempt to be a moderate and upright ruler for the first 20 years, while concealing his plans from the world until he has sufficient numbers to conquer everyone in one massive surprise attack._  
_10. During the long wait, Death Eater agents will be sent out to destabilize other wizarding governments and foment prejudice in order to weaken resistance to the eventual conquest. They will collaborate with local pureblood sympathizers who are often the wealthy and powerful elite._

_What are the flies in Voldemort's ointment?_  
_1. Severus Snape will never stop looking for the opportunity to avenge Lily's death, no matter how comfortable his life as a respected "hero" for the dark side._


	2. Justice and Equality for All, EXCEPT

_Author's note: For those of you wondering what happened to the original Chapter 2 – I decided to reorganize the story a bit and move that part to later, I thought the overall arc of the stories made more sense that way. The missing part will be re-posted as part of a later chapter. For now, watch Voldemort's scheme continue to unfold… and our future antagonist's humble beginnings…_

_So you're probably wondering by now... what happened to Miss Granger? Well, I guess I did give myself away by listing "Hermione G." under "characters" in addition to "Voldemort"... so let's just say, for those of you who are reading this story because you are Hermione fans, her speaking role starts right here. (I'd like to acknowledge fellow FFnet-izen _**_thisgrangergirlrocks_**_ for pointing out my slip-up, as well as volunteering a huge amount of helpful feedback and ideas to me for the rest of this story. Thanks very much!)_

_Okay, story time!_

* * *

"What in Merlin's name is this!" yelled Harold Parkinson, slamming a copy of that morning's _Daily Prophet_ down on Minister Yaxley's desk. On the second page, to which Parkinson had opened the paper, was a half-page announcement for "New Decrees Relating to Werewolves, Goblins, Vampires, and Other Sentient Creatures." The cafés, parlors, and gathering places of wizarding Britain were awash with hushed speculation and rumors about the news hidden on the inside of the front cover. The halls of the Ministry of Magic were abuzz with it.

The first paragraph of the new decrees granted werewolves all of the same rights as humans… including the ability to enroll infected children at Hogwarts.

And since attendance at Hogwarts was now mandatory, this meant the young werewolves would be in classes alongside the wealthiest, cream-of-the-crop pureblood children.

The fact that the werewolves were also (quite sensibly) required to take Ministry-provided Wolfsbane potion monthly, or be confined to secure cells for the night of every full moon, was almost universally overlooked in the hysteria that swept the streets of wizarding Britain.

So was the fact that werewolves had just recently fought for the pureblood cause with such distinction that several of them, including Fenrir Greyback, had earned posthumous Order of Merlin awards.

It had never occurred to most of the pureblood elite, self-centered as always, to reward their werewolf allies for their sacrifices. And even among the lowest-class half-bloods, prejudice and fear of werewolves ran deep.

"Oh, Lord Parkinson! What a pleasant surprise," said Yaxley, looking up from his desk with a wry smirk that indicated the exact opposite of being surprised. "Good morning to you, sir."

"And you, Minister Yaxley," greeted Parkinson in return, remembering his manners with the help of Yaxley's unruffled response to his rude entrance. "I'm sorry, Minister, I shouldn't have burst in like that."

"Apology accepted," said Yaxley, smiling at his close friend from Hogwarts days. "Only for you, Harold… only for you."

"Thanks, Bill," said Parkinson. "Great to see all that Minister stuff hasn't gone to your head yet. But, really, though…" he pointed to the newspaper, "…we're letting werewolves into Hogwarts now? Goblins getting wands and Ministry appointments? I mean, come on… did we just win a war or not? We've finally eliminated one inferior element from our society, at great cost, and now we're letting several other ones in, ones our society has previously also paid dearly to suppress, and just like that we're letting them back in?"

* * *

In Gringotts, far fewer than the usual volume of wizarding customers seemed much more tense and on edge than usual, to the apparent glee of the goblins chattering excitedly amongst each other over copies of the morning's _Daily Prophet_ opened to the same page that had angered Lord Parkinson so much. Until this day, the goblins had always thought of "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" as just another untrustworthy human, just another oppressor. Voldemort's seductive promises of equality, respect, justice in exchange for goblin support in the recent war, the goblins had never believed a word of it and had remained stoutly neutral.

But that morning, a package had come to Gringotts, with a letter from Voldemort himself and a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ wrapped around… no, it couldn't be… it was! The gem-hilted Sword of Gryffindor – the one item which every goblin recognized as the symbol of one thousand years of their mistreatment by humanity. "My gift to you, as a sign of my people's good faith," read the simple note, signed "The Dark Lord."

And the accompanying decrees in that _Daily Prophet_ had fulfilled nearly all the pie-in-the-sky promises with which Voldemort had attempted to buy the goblins' support during the dark days of the civil war. Goblins were now allowed to use human wands, vote, hold public offices, and testify against humans in open court, and could even have any cross-species disputes tried by a special panel with equal numbers of goblins and humans to avoid prejudice from the human-dominated Wizengamot. The Ministry would also now recognize goblin property rights to all future goblin-made items, while those already in the hands of human "owners" were grandfathered with a provision that any inheritor of the item would have to pay compensation to the goblins equal to the original price of the item. The Ministry furthermore committed to a program of re-purchasing as many goblin-made items as possible for the purpose of eventually returning them to the goblin community. And, to top it all off, goblins who wished to own wands were – just like humans – required to complete a course of study at Hogwarts, where an entire new addition to the castle was to be built specifically to accommodate the goblin students as well as several new goblin teachers to teach those magics which human wizards did not possess.

Several openings for goblin teachers at Hogwarts were advertised in the classified section of that same issue of the _Daily Prophet_.

And all this the goblins had gained without even lifting a finger! With a generosity he rarely showed to his human subjects, Voldemort had given the goblins a free gift – despite their neutrality in the war when he had most needed them.

The goblins were not so gullible, of course. It was transparently obvious that Voldemort was anticipating future opposition to his rule for which he wanted their support, despite the war being over for the time being. In accepting this deal, the goblins would implicitly commit to shedding their blood for Voldemort's cause. And yet, with the apparently genuine Ministry decrees of May 1998, almost all of the goblins realized that this was as close as the humans had ever come to truly addressing a millennium of the goblins' grievances. And even if it was a pragmatic trade, Voldemort had made the first concession, the first gesture of trust, which the goblins had refused to do previously. If they did not seize this opportunity, would there ever be another?

Outnumbered nearly three to one by the humans, knowing from past history that standing alone for their equality was a lost cause, the goblins soon decided this was the best deal they would ever get. In a series of secret meetings and assemblies throughout Britain, the goblin clans reached largely the same conclusion. They would watch carefully to see that the Dark Lord kept his promises. If he did not, then as a practical matter there would be no change for the goblins. But if he did… then he would gain the trust of almost one quarter of all the magical beings in Britain. And he would be one of few human wizards to truly earn the honorable allegiance of the goblins. The rest of humanity could go to… wherever their afterlife was. The goblins of the United Kingdom were ready to stand up and assert their rights… and choose sides, if that was what it took.

It was the start of a new era in Goblin-Wizard relations.

* * *

Headmistress Olympe Maxime was just sitting down to a late dinner at about seven o'clock that evening, following another hectic day at Beauxbatons. It had been over twenty-four hours since she received and passed on the news of the Order's defeat in Britain, and the remaining few Order supporters in Continental Europe were all laying low in fear of being pursued or hunted down in France by either Death Eater agents or their possible unknown Continental allies.

Just then a cute silver otter Patronus scurried into the room and jumped onto Maxime's table, speaking in a very frightened female voice which she did not quite recognize.

"Madame Maxime, I need your help. My name is Hermione Granger, and I'm the only one who got out of Hogwarts alive yesterday – I know we've never met, but you're the only Order member I can think of who isn't dead…"

The girl's voice dropped to a whisper, as if afraid someone would overhear her. "I'm hiding out in Muggle Paris because I know they're hunting for me right now. I'll be standing under the southeast corner of the Eiffel Tower. _Please_ come and get me, before _they_ do…"

* * *

_Author's note: As is probably now apparent, there is no love lost between our Dark Lord and the "one who got away" – sorry to all the Voldemort/Hermione shippers out there. Is our little Gryffindor a freedom fighter or a terrorist? It all depends on which side you're on – if "one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter," then the reverse is true, too. If you believe in pureblood supremacy, then Hermione is the villain of this story, not the heroine.  
And if you're a goblin, a werewolf, or a giant – who's the one man that has ever done anything for you? That's right, Voldemort._

_Now you can see some of the problems our scattered few Order survivors will face as they enter into an epic multi-generational contest for the hearts and minds of the wizarding world…_

_Thoughts? Comments? Anything needs improvement? Anything you want to know? As always, reviews are greatly appreciated :)_


	3. The Banality of Evil

_Author's note: Welcome to the next chapter of our story! I see a number of you have subscribed and/or favorited this story – thank you very much, and glad you like it so far! Let me know if you still do after this chapter. :)_

* * *

From the previous chapter…

_"Thanks, Bill," said Parkinson. "Great to see all that Minister stuff hasn't gone to your head yet. But, really, though…" he pointed to the newspaper, "…we're letting werewolves into Hogwarts now? Goblins getting wands and Ministry appointments? I mean, come on… did we just win a war or not? We've finally eliminated one inferior element from our society, at great cost, and now we're letting several other ones in, ones our society has previously also paid dearly to suppress, and just like that we're letting them back in?"_

"Yes, Harold," replied Yaxley, "That's exactly what I thought, too. And, don't let this get out too much, but it's all part of our Lord's plan. Think about this, can you imagine how much less costly our recent war could have been if the goblins had come out for us at Hogwarts?"

Parkinson nodded. "And this is the goblins' price for their support. But they didn't support us! They refused, and it cost us dearly. Why should we reward them for that?"

"Ah, you see," Yaxley said with a knowing smile, "it is not a reward for their past withholding of their support. No… it is a purchase of their _future_ support, for our use against all those who _will_ oppose our cause."

"Hmph. I'm not so sure this is a good idea. Who is to say those goblins will not be bribed to turn against us, and then their having wands will make them that much more powerful in combat."

"Ah, but this is exactly what everyone else would think, see? The goblins have always been greedy, yes, but this is only because wizards have oppressed them for centuries, given them no other way to gain power than through wealth. Thanks to our Dark Lord's genius, we have become the first wizarding Ministry to give goblins something far more precious than all the world's Galleons. No bribery can undo it."

"And what might that be?"

"Honor. Dignity. A recognition of their full worth as magical beings. The goblins have been unjustly denied all this for centuries. They know what that is like. And now that they are free, no bribe will ever induce them to return to their subservience. They will be our most willing allies in our fight against the Muggle-loving, goblin-oppressing ministries of the world. A fight that will come, sooner or later."

"So, are we then only rebuilding from this recent war, to prepare for an endless series of more?"

"Yes."

"And this is why we have been ordered to curtail all contacts with anyone outside of the British Isles? It is feared that the Mudblood sympathizers in our sister Ministries shall discover what you have told me, and unite against us?"

"Precisely. We must bide our time until we have strength to conquer the world in one stroke, otherwise our enemies' greater numbers shall destroy wizardkind forever."

"So where will our imports come from, how is our economy to function without trade?"

"At the moment our international borders are entirely closed because we are still dealing with fugitives that may escape, but eventually we foresee allowing a select few who require international access for business or other purposes to have it. I am sure you would be granted this as you do have a legitimate purpose for it, and it is also important for us to maintain some appearance of normalcy in our dealings with other nations, as over-isolation might also arouse suspicions."

"And the five or ten children my daughter has been asked to produce for the rebuilding of our own society, are in fact nothing more than soldiers to be sent to their deaths in a foreign land? Shall I warn her not to become too attached to them?" Parkinson sounded very annoyed now.

Yaxley sighed. "I would not put it so bluntly," he said at last, "but indeed, it is inevitable that we shall mourn many good wizards whose sacrifices will be absolutely necessary to defend our world. Yet even that shall be a moot point unless we can first bring those good wizards into this world in the first place; how can they fight for us if they are not even born? The entire world's wizarding societies are so permeated by Muggle influences. Our ways are slowly but surely dying out—"

"And yet," Parkinson interrupted, "you would have us, the most pure of purebloods, intermarry with the half-blood spawn of Mudbloods? What ways, exactly, are we preserving here?"

"Ah, yes, you have a point," Yaxley admitted. "It was the subject of some discussion at our last meeting. But the latest draft report from our Unspeakables, which you have not yet seen – it will be publicly released in approximately two months after final revisions – unfortunately, what we have is a drastic decline in fertility among the most pureblood couples as compared to more mixed couples over the past half-century. We think it is because the elite of our society, like yourself, have married so exclusively among yourselves in pursuit of advantageous matches, that our elites have now reached a sufficient level of consanguinity to negatively affect fertility."

Parkinson had to concede that point with a nod. Although the Ministry was about to publicize it, it was something that many already knew anecdotally. Seeing this, Yaxley continued:

"The only way to reverse that consanguinity, unfortunately, is to marry outside of your traditional circles. It may be socially unpalatable to those raised in such traditions, like yourself, but if the choice is between watching the entire world of magic swallowed up by the Muggles, or sacrificing this one small part of our old ways to protect the vast majority, it is no choice at all."

"I trust your word on what the Ministry's report will say," Parkinson said, "but I can tell you surely that our leading families will not take the news well. We have been exclusive for centuries, such a change will take time."

"Time we do not have," Yaxley answered, "I know it will be difficult for many of your peers to accept, but we must emphasize to them how grave our situation is. You, Lord Parkinson, will be instrumental in convincing your fellow elites. We desperately need a higher birthrate. Muggles breed like cockroaches and produce dangerous magic-stealing Mudbloods at an ever-increasing rate. We are losing the invisible war of numbers to our enemies, and only a concerted effort on all fronts – population growth, education, conquest when the time is right – can reverse the trends. Those of us who understand this are so few in number, we must all do our part if we are to have any hope of prevailing."

"It is true," Parkinson conceded, "I do not like it, but I will take truth over delusion. Still, I find it hard to bear the thought that I shall likely watch many of my own grandchildren die within my own lifetime, at the hands of misguided fellow wizards. And harder still to see such sorrows inflicted upon my daughter, and all the rest of her generation; to foresee this and yet be powerless to prevent it." Parkinson sighed, shaking his head despondently. "Why did Grindelwald have to lose?"

"Rest assured," said Yaxley, "that our Lord will not repeat Grindelwald's foolish mistakes. He will succeed where past so-called Dark Lords have failed. We must trust his wisdom and do our utmost to ensure the success of his plans. I would say to your daughter, that she should cherish every moment with her children, and raise them to face the inevitable dangers with honor and dignity. Let us never forget that the worst of us is a better man than the best of our enemies. Each of our losses is and will be a great tragedy, and in persevering through these tragedies to do her duty, your daughter will be no less a heroine than those who give their lives in battle unflinchingly. Together… we will endure, and prevail."

"I will tell her," said Parkinson. "Thank you."

* * *

From the previous chapter…

_"Madame Maxime, I need your help. My name is Hermione Granger, and I'm the only one who got out of Hogwarts alive yesterday – I know we've never met, but you're the only Order member I can think of who isn't dead… I'm hiding out in Muggle Paris because I know they're hunting for me right now. I'll be standing under the southeast corner of the Eiffel Tower. Please come and get me, before they do…"_

Maxime put down her fork and stood, leaving her dinner untouched. This sounded like an urgent situation, and perhaps this refugee from Voldemort's triumph might have crucial information that would help all surviving opponents of the Dark Lord. The Order of the Phoenix needed every bit of help it could get.

Was it a fake message planted by Voldemort's forces to lure a known former friend of Dumbledore's into an ambush? It was certainly possible that Voldemort might have discovered the Order's secret Patronus communication methods through interrogation, assuming he had captured any members alive (and most likely he had). Though the girl's name was familiar, having frequently been linked to Harry Potter's name in news reports, Maxime had never personally met this Granger, and had no way of knowing what her actual Patronus looked like.

So, thinking quickly, Maxime went to her fireplace to make some floo calls.

"Jean, apologies for interrupting," she said, in her usual French, "an emergency has arisen for which I may require dueling assistance…"

* * *

Many miles to the northwest, Maxime's opponents were indeed already on the move, though not in the way Maxime had thought to take her precautions against. In the foyer of an opulent mansion styled much like Lucius Malfoy's own home before it had suffered the ravages of war, Lucius was just being greeted by an older man who greatly resembled him; the harsh trials of the past two years had aged Lucius considerably, erasing much of the twelve-year age difference between himself and his older host.

"Ah, Lucius, it is good to see you again! Please do come in."

* * *

_Author's note: Not quite as steep of a cliffhanger as last chapter, huh? :)_


	4. A Potion for Every Ill

_...And here's the next chapter! This is about as bleak as it gets. Let's just say, this is going to be a long fight for Voldemort and his (seemingly) well-intentioned Dark Side. They have many obstacles to overcome – just as you would expect for the heroes of any story... (so again I may ask, who is the hero? What is obvious to us, may not be to the characters of our story, who have been raised very differently than ourselves...)_

_This is a longer chapter – since Cho Chang reappears here and those of you who are early subscribers already know what happens to her, I've made the rest of it longer so you still have some new material to read. (This isn't the end of her, though – she will be important much later in the story as well. Good news for her fans.)_

_Enjoy! :)_

* * *

From the previous chapter…

_"Ah, Lucius, it is good to see you again! Please do come in."_

"Likewise, Trebonius. How have you been, my dear cousin? Much better than I, it should seem…"

"Very much so, dear Lucius; indeed I cannot envy your recent misfortunes, as much as I hate to say so." The two men proceeded over to the sitting room and were served their tea by a wizened house-elf. "So," Trebonius began, after a suitable interval, "what brings the master of Malfoy Manor over to the Chateau Malfoy on this day?"

"It is the Dark Lord," answered Lucius, "he requests your assistance, in the coming decades. War is coming, slowly, silently, surely as the sun shall rise…"

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Madame Maxime was approaching the Eiffel Tower, followed by her wingman, Defence professor Jean Millet. The Muggle crowds scattered before them, thanks to a Muggle-Repelling Charm which Millet had subtly cast on himself as they walked up, leaving the normally tourist-filled square eerily deserted.

"There's someone disillusioned on the other side of that steel," Millet whispered, in French. Maxime nodded acknowledgement.

* * *

Trebonius Malfoy took another sip of his tea. "I am not sure waiting twenty years is a good idea. As you have pointed out, the Mudblood population is growing. At this time if there is a war, I would guess that two-thirds of the half-bloods would lean towards our side, so we would have the advantage. But if we wait, the Mudblood influence may well increase to the point where the half-bloods are largely turned against us. This would negate the Dark Lord's promised reinforcements."

"Ah, but we have accounted for that, too," Lucius answered, taking a small vial of black liquid out of his robes. "This here, is a highly concentrated anti-fertility potion to specifically target non-magicals. By poisoning the worldwide Muggle water supply, we can reduce the rate of Mudblood births, delaying their takeover long enough to give us the time we need. The Dark Lord has furthermore investigated the infrastructure by which Muggles maintain their society. Muggles are highly dependent on public sanitation and industrialized agriculture, so we believe that appropriate sabotage can drastically increase their rates of death by starvation and disease. Combined with our reduction of their fertility, we hope to suppress the production of Mudbloods, while simultaneously increasing our own birthrates of pureblood and near-pure halfblood wizards so as to ensure a favorable population balance when the war arrives. But we need the help of as many Ministries as possible, as all our machinations must be on a worldwide scale."

Though impressed with the depth of Voldemort's plan, Trebonius had one final objection. "Lucius, you have outlined an exceedingly clever and insidious plan, but one element is missing. The fact is that we purebloods already control most of the world. Much of what you have proposed could also be accomplished on our own, without ceding our autonomy to the overarching banner of a single Dark Lord. Though we all agree on the necessity of keeping the Muggles down in their place, many will see little reason to submit themselves to the Dark Lord, or marry beneath their station and pollute their bloodlines for the sake of producing more heirs. That incentive is the one thing missing from your plan."

"Perhaps that is true of the French Ministry, but only because you and your peers, like us, recognize the long-term threat posed by increasing Muggle birthrates. Too many of your fellow Ministries, however, do not. They have become complacent, corrupt and decadent, alienating their half-blood subjects, giving the Mudbloods an opportunity to make common cause with them against a perceived pureblood oppressor. Our fellow elites will not willingly see the light; no, they must be forced. The Dark Lord is our only hope of doing so."

"I shall sound out my colleagues in the Ministry," said Trebonius. "We will probably have elections in France within the next year, so we must move cautiously at this moment, but I believe I will be able to win most of them over to our side, at least on the idea of suppressing the Muggle population growth. It will be much harder, however, to persuade our best purebloods to match with half-bloods…"

Lucius, in response, withdrew a few more potions from his robes. Trebonius arched an eyebrow.

"A potion for every ill?" asked Trebonius, jokingly. "Surely there must be something for which potions will not suffice… Wait, is that…"

"Amortentia, yes," Lucius replied with just a small hint of amusement. "With an antidote to the standard contraceptive potion. And these other potions, all variants on a theme, can be taken by a pregnant woman to alter the child's hair and eye color, jaw and chin angles, et cetera, to almost any required appearance. We are not accustomed to marrying for love anyways, so long as the children do not bear physical evidence of scandal, what does it matter?"

Trebonius conceded with a slight nod; he himself could not have come up with a more intricate and well-designed scheme than the one his cousin had presented to him in the previous hour. "I am forced to bow to the genius of your Dark Lord," he sighed dramatically, "But let me warn you, should my wife ever fall victim to one of your potions…"

"Yes, I know… the love potions are a last resort anyways. Truthfully, they are probably the least important out of all of them. There is enough sleeping around in our society as it is, isn't there? We will simply… harness it, for the preservation of wizardkind… and it will be no less enjoyable for all involved."

* * *

"Yes?" Voldemort looked up at the emerald face of his Minister in the fireplace.

"My lord, we have just received an official dispatch from the consulate of the Chinese Ministry. They say we have one of their citizens in our custody and demand we hand her over to the embassy."

In an instant Voldemort was standing upright before the Minister's desk. Snatching up the paper roll which bore the mark of China's wizarding government in his spindly fingers, he read:

_Office of the Minister  
__Ministry of Magic, Britain  
__London__, UK_

_5 May 1998_

_Minister Yaxley,_

_We have learned that one of our Ministry's subjects, a certain Cho Chang, is being held by your government for possibly capital crimes. In addition to being a citizen of Magical China, which places Miss Chang under our jurisdiction in serious criminal cases, she is also the daughter of our official diplomatic representative, James Chang, and therefore entitled to diplomatic immunity under Article 7, Section 9 of the Law of the International Confederation of Wizards._

_We hereby request that our subject Miss Chang be turned over within 48 hours to the custody of the Magical China consulate of the United Kingdom, in accordance with Article 7, Section 9 of the ICW. We also remind you that she is a pureblood with many powerful relatives in our society and Ministry. They will be very grateful to have her back alive, well, and quickly, and unhappy otherwise. If she has disappeared or otherwise is unable to be located, we can provide two thousand Aurors to assist in searching for her._

_We hope that this incident may be resolved peacefully and in accordance with the law of wizards._

_Sincerely,_

_Yuxian Chang  
__Head, Department of Police and Military Affairs  
__Ministry of Magic, China_

Voldemort's brow furrowed in anger as he read through the superficially polite letter with its thinly veiled threat. Obviously the girl had somehow managed to let her father know where she was. Either way, he knew his new kingdom needed time to recover from the recent war. It was very unlike him to yield, but his long-term plans would be ruined otherwise. Someday, he planned to conquer China and beat them too into submission, but at the moment, they still had the greater numbers.

"We shall have to placate them for now," he said to Yaxley. "Send a reply; inform them that Miss Chang will be escorted to her consulate this afternoon. Include Britain's sincerest apologies for being unaware of her nationality, emphasizing that the reason for this is because she was captured as an enemy combatant on the battlefield with no uniform or other indication of her proper nationality. Provide a list of charges Miss Chang faces in Britain. Tell them that we have faith in the Ministry of China to handle the case appropriately regardless of whatever influence or connections Miss Chang may wield in her own society. It is clear they will not, but we must pretend for the sake of diplomacy, we cannot afford any suspicions from their part. I must see to her right now, find out whatever secrets of China's she may hold. Tell Mulciber to meet me over there in one hour."

"As you wish, my Lord."

* * *

Cho Chang knew she was lucky.

The day after the battle, she had awoken in a cushioned cell. Mulciber, the Death Eater, had visited her in her cell and explained what the Dark Lord would require from her, and from the other pureblooded witches. She was first to sign the oath of allegiance, made binding on her magic; then she would be assigned to a fertile Death Eater and required to bear three healthy children of magical ability. Once this was done, she would be freed and allowed to live her life, though not allowed to leave the British Isles for a period of twenty years. The children she bore would be adopted and raised by childless Death Eaters, hopefully to follow in their foster parents' footsteps.

The Dementor's Kiss was slightly more distasteful than the idea of serving as a brood mare for Voldemort. She had been prepared to sign the paper, but when the Dark Lord appeared in her cell a couple hours later, it was not to collect her signature but instead to interrogate her about her father's work for about an hour (which yielded no sensitive information, since she was well-trained in Occlumency like the rest of her father's diplomatic staff) and then escort her to freedom, with Mulciber in tow. Cho was more overjoyed than she had ever been in her life to escape the terrible choice, though it was quickly tempered by the thought that too many others were not as fortunate as she was. She knew her father must have contacted his superiors in Beijing and gotten her out using diplomatic immunity.

Ambassador James Chang had tried, and failed, to dissuade his only daughter from attending the Battle of Hogwarts, so instead he had given her a small magic ring that would allow him to track her. If she was captured, she needed only to remove the ring from her finger, and her father's own charmed ring would let him know that she needed a get-out-of-jail-free letter. Their secret lifeline had worked to perfection, and even Lord Voldemort's forbidding presence did not dampen Cho's exuberance as she left behind her prison cell to be escorted back to her father and freedom, planning to use this moment as her new Patronus memory from this day forward.

But it was not to be. Cho's previous happy memories would have to suffice for her future Patronus Charms; for when she reached the end of the long corridor Lord Voldemort suddenly spun around on his heel and hissed, "Obliviate," before Cho even saw his wand drawn. That evening, reporting her ordeal to her father at dinner, she remembered no human contact other than Mulciber coming to escort her out at the very end.

And so that fleeting chance whereby the world might have discovered and stopped the Dark Lord's plans prematurely, was precisely and ruthlessly crushed by the thoughtfulness and foresight of that same Dark Lord.

* * *

_Author's note:  
It looks like so far Voldemort is playing all his cards perfectly and maximizing his position. He is without a doubt the Dumbledore of the dark side, wise and patient despite his black heart. But even the great masters are not perfect – find out how Hermione got away in the next chapter! And someone else is alive who shouldn't be... :)_

(Also, just to clarify the scheme in case anyone missed what Lucius is implying in his explanation to Trebonius: The idea is to increase pureblood-halfblood matings (and thus, overall wizard fertility) by promoting extramarital affairs while tricking the cuckolded (pureblood) husbands into accepting the additional children as their own. What Voldemort wants is a population boom among the social classes most likely to support him in the next 20 years, e.g. wealthy pureblood elites. This way, when he sends his British youth army out to invade the rest of the world, he will already have many sympathizers to undermine the targeted nations' Ministries from within, and fewer Muggle-borns to fight against. Ordinarily, most Ministries of Magic would have laws against magical interference with their territory's Muggle infrastructure, which is why this all has to be done under the table and/or with secret help from within the Ministry in question, e.g. Trebonius's people in France...)


	5. The Girl Who Lived

_Welcome to the next chapter! I've tried to get the plot moving a little faster and start mapping out the fates of our favorite characters – those in Harry's year at Hogwarts. Lots of things going on! Enjoy :)_

* * *

In September of 1991, there had been forty young wizards and witches in Hermione Granger's year at Hogwarts.

Just seven years later, only twenty-four of them were still alive.

* * *

At this moment two of those twenty-four survivors were now facing the timeless choice of history – love against duty. Behind multiple silencing and privacy charms on the curtains of Theodore Nott's bed, in a dungeon once known as the "Slytherin" dormitory at Hogwarts, Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass reconsidered their plans for the future.

"The Dark Lord sent me this letter today. He wants me to take the Mark. His inner circle isn't complete without a Nott, he says. And since my dad's dead, …_hero_…that he was, I'm the last one." Theo pronounced the word _hero_ with as much disgust as he could muster, making it clear that he would have much preferred a cowardly survival to an honorable death.

Daphne took the parchment from Theo's hands and read it silently. "What will you do about it?"

"I'm not sure."

Daphne said nothing, but her expression told Theo to continue.

"I can answer the call, and become a loyal follower like my father before me. We will live as we always have, as our forefathers did before us. We will be at the top of wizarding society, not only in Britain, but worldwide once the Dark Lord has conquered. We'll be in the privileged first group of his followers, with seniority over all those who come after. And we will do whatever we are told, marry whoever they tell us to, and see each other only rarely and with great precautions. If by some miracle we have children, you will pass them off as your husband's, they will all grow up to be Death Eaters and we will watch many of them die in the prime of their lives fighting for the Dark Lord in some distant land. In short, exactly the lives we've been raised to live."

"Or…?"

"Or, we run away together and leave everything behind. We change our identities and wands, find the most obscure corner of the world. We'll be nobody. We'll have nothing."

"Except each other."

"Your mum and dad are good as dead the moment we leave."

"I know."

"Your sister, too, unless she comes with us."

"She's in love with Draco, no way she leaves without him."

"And he won't leave his parents…"

"Okay, that's six people if we pull this off."

"If the Malfoys agree to it. Which I highly doubt."

"And we'd need a plausible excuse for six of us to leave the country on the same trip, and it has to be before…"

"…Before I get Marked… and we have to do something with Draco's too, to keep them from tracking it…"

"This isn't going to work, is it?"

Theo sighed in resignation. "I guess we're stuck."

Silence.

"What about… us?"

"We'll find a way."

What neither of them foresaw was that many years later, the memory of this conversation would end up shortening their time in Azkaban by several years. The "power that the Dark Lord knew not" had failed to save Harry Potter's life, but in the grand scheme of history it proved to be far from useless.

* * *

Ten eager young children were Sorted into Gryffindor that day. None had known then, that it would be a death sentence for most of them.

Out of ten Gryffindors in the original Hogwarts Class of 1998, only one now remained.

Maybe they were better off dead.

* * *

In the hospital wing of Beauxbatons, Professor Millet completed his Legilimency probe of the English girl who was now fast asleep on the stretcher, and turned to Madame Maxime, waiting nearby.

"She has all the memories to back her story," he reported to Maxime, in French. "If they were planted, then they were planted well. Absent further evidence, I think we must assume that Mademoiselle Granger is who she claims to be, or at least believes so. Yet, I do find hers an incredible story. If we are to believe this girl's memories, then it appears that this Voldemort is currently the world's most invincible wand-duelist, easily superior to Grindelwald and at a minimum equal to Dumbledore. This dark wizard leads by example, sweeping his enemies aside in groups of ten or twelve at a time, one wand against many, carrying all before him. How could he do all this, only to fall by his own Killing Curse, against a single fleeing girl with her back turned? It is incredible."

"Blood magic," Maxime murmured. "It is rare, but I know of one such case, from many years ago. Monsieur Dumbledore told me the story years afterwards, as it was not widely publicized at the time. Many years before we saw Harry Potter at the last Triwizard Tournament, there was a similar civil war in England, in which the Potter family sided with Monsieur Dumbledore against Monsieur Voldemort, who then attempted to murder Harry Potter at one year of age because a prophecy was made claiming that the young Potter was the only one who could defeat Monsieur Voldemort. None of this was newsworthy to us, you and I were not involved with the Englishmen back then. Monsieur Voldemort's first attempted Killing Curse was taken by the boy's mother, who sacrificed herself to protect her son from the next one, which bounced back on its caster. Monsieur Voldemort survived only through his foresight in creating Horcruxes to bind his spirit to this world. It may be that a similar situation has occurred here, though I am not well versed in the finer points of this particular blood magic. We will have to review Mademoiselle Granger's memories in detail, in a Pensieve, once she has recovered sufficiently to show them to us."

"We will, but I think we must give her time," Millet noted. "She has lost in one great blow every single person in this world to whom she ever had any close emotional ties. Based on what I saw of her memories, it is a miracle that she is here with us at all, for she should by all rights have been killed with the rest of them. It is hard to imagine a more traumatic experience, and understandable that she cannot bear to relive it so soon."

Maxime nodded silently, deep in thought, and sighed deeply.

"Our source within Monsieur Voldemort's forces survived the battle," she said. "Last night, I received information from him that Monsieur Voldemort intends to conquer the world. His strategy will be to lay low in Britain until he has built up an overwhelming force to invade and subjugate all other nations at once. We are now all in grave danger though few know of it."

* * *

Shortly after dawn the next morning a most unusual delivery came for Mademoiselle Granger in the hospital wing.

It is most common to receive letters or packages by owl. On rarer occasions one might be delivered something by an eagle, a raven, or a pigeon. Still less commonly perhaps by some other bird – crows, hawks, falcons, geese, perhaps – from the occasional eccentric wizard or witch.

But only once in a few centuries, will a delivery be made by a phoenix.

"I recognize this phoenix. He was Monsieur Dumbledore's… before he died…"

"Fawkes! What are you doing here!"

Fawkes, the phoenix, dropped what he had been holding into Mademoiselle Granger's lap as she sat up.

It was a wand. Holly. Eleven inches. Phoenix feather.

"Oh, my, god… … this can't be happening…"

She looked up at the phoenix sitting beside her knee, who looked intently back up at her, nodding as if to say, "take it."

"What is the matter, Hermione?"

"This wand… it's Harry's."

* * *

When Neville Longbottom awoke on the cold ground of a towering forest the morning after being subjected to a Dementor's Kiss, he immediately knew something was wrong.

He looked down at himself and saw… nothing except a dark shroud.

* * *

_Author's challenge: What do you think is going on here? A reward will be offered to whoever correctly guesses what happened to Neville and Hermione! (Correct answers will be revealed in the next chapter.)_

_The reward is as follows: Whoever guesses either character's fate most correctly with the most detail, will be allowed to create their own original character for insertion into this story at some point later. (Within reason, of course – e.g. overly perfect Mary Sue-type characters will be modified to fit more realistically into the Harry Potter universe, etc.)_

_Next chapter: Look forward to news of more survivors from the battle on both sides, and further proof that Voldemort's not a heartless bastard after all... (think of Dumbledore who shows compassion and humanity despite his pursuit of the greater good and occasional sacrifice, these are arguably the two most Mary Sue-ish characters in the canon, aren't they :)_


End file.
